Syndicate Fists (Syndicate Next Gen #2)

Chapter 1 Nova

NOVA

Swaying my hips to the pounding beat, I closed my eyes and tried to just feel.

Tried to let the bass smooth over the sharp edges of the sounds clamoring for my attention.

The clicking of heels from an overdressed patron downstairs, a woman demanding a free drink, the soft moans of a couple tangled up in the corner.

I let all of it blur into the background until all I could hear was the music thumping through my skin, syncing with my pulse.

For just a moment, I didn’t feel the pressure in my chest from being the Rossey heir.

I didn’t hear my dad, Ax, in my head, telling me to go harder, to be tougher.

Didn’t hear the muttered doubts and or see the forced smiles that followed me into every room.

I was just a body in motion, hands raised overhead, letting the beat carry me.

“Damn, Nova! Girl out here being all sexy! Get it, girl!”

Cracking one eye open, I glanced down at my little sister. Aniyah. The birthday girl was twenty-one tonight. All of us siblings were here to celebrate her, but today was also the end of an era and the beginning of another—one we’d spent years preparing for.

Now that she was of age, and Calix, the oldest, was pushing twenty-seven, it was time for us to step into power.

For years, we’d been the bosses-in-training—grilled, tested, taught how to manage our clans, our territories, and our duties to the Syndicate and our family.

The lieutenants were watching, waiting to see which of us would rise and who might crack, but I knew none of us would. Failure was not an option.

Change always ruffled feathers, and in the Rossey clan, you didn’t get handed power. You earned it, fought for it, or bled trying.

“Come on! Look at those two over there.” Aniyah’s grin widened. “You think either of them has the birthday dick I’m looking for?”

I followed her gaze to the bar, where two men were eyeing her with open interest. One was a werewolf, the other a vampire.

Both tall, both attractive, both clearly clocking Aniyah in her glittering excuse of a top and barely there white mini skirt with slits up the sides.

She looked like some kind of ready-for-sex club Barbie—flawless skin, full glam, and wild confidence to boot.

No wonder they were staring.

Looking down at myself, I internally grimaced.

The ripped black jeans, thick-heeled boots, and cropped black tee I wore under my worn leather jacket didn’t exactly scream “sex kitten” like Aniyah.

I let the self-conscious twinge fall away, like I usually do, and grabbed two shots from a passing waitress, shoving one into her hand with a smirk.

“Go find out, girl. Can’t know what they’re packing unless you cop a feel. And, hey… what if he’s a grower?”

I wiggled my brows teasingly, knowing damn well she didn’t need a push.

She grinned and tossed back the shot. I downed mine to match, savoring the way the Hellfire liquor burned all the way down. Smoke and spice hit my throat, and when it hit my stomach, a cold rush spread through my body, making me shiver.

“Damn!” she gasped, shaking her head. “That shit’s harsh going down, but once it settles? My veins are buzzing.”

I shrugged. “That’s Hellfire for you. It figures out what your body craves, then drowns you in it.”

Ezra was a genius for sourcing and producing an alcohol that worked for supes.

The only downside? It gave your body what it wanted most, which, in turn, made it slightly addictive.

For a werewolf like me, who ran extra hot, it created the cool chill that my body craved.

If you weren't strong of body and mind, able to control your urges, you might end up broke and at the bottom of the bottle, begging for more.

That was why we were the only ones who sold it.

Hellfire was a Syndicate exclusive with a high price tag and heavy consequences for those who abused it.

Only we were in possession of a quick fix antidote to counter its magic, and our establishments kept it on hand as insurance to make sure the supes didn’t get out of line too quickly.

If you got sloppy, not only would we hit you with the antidote, but we would leave you broke, bruised, and blacklisted from our establishments.

A heavy price for a supe, one that no one wanted to mess around with.

Aniyah shook out her body like she was shedding all restraint, casting a quick glance back toward the booth.

Ezra and Calix were deep in another one of their intense debates.

Riot, true to form, stalked the perimeter like a bloodhound, scanning faces while pretending she was dancing with us.

That girl needed a good dicking more than anyone I knew, just to knock the edge off.

“Come on,” Aniyah said, grabbing my arm and tugging me along.

I resisted half-heartedly. “Nah, girl, looks like they both want you to take them for a ride, and why not? It’s your birthday—call it a two-for-one deal.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, Nova. I need a wingwoman.” She nodded toward the werewolf. “I’ve got my eye on the blond with the come-fuck-me-in-the-forest eyes.”

She blew him a kiss. His pupils dilated, and he unashamedly adjusted himself, which made her giggle.

We stopped at the bar opposite them, and before we could even flag anyone down, the bartender slid two drinks in front of us.

Aniyah took a slow sip, then leaned toward me, her voice completely sinful. “And if he plays his cards right? Might be a little fuck in the bathroom. Start the night off right, you know what I mean.”

I shrugged and drank. My eyes never left the werewolf and his vampire friend as they peeled away from the bar and started making their way toward us. Aniyah leaned forward, hiding a smile behind her glass.

“He just got a point for taking the bait. Men have to come to me, especially in a club. If I have to go to him, that’s the first red flag.”

I laughed into my drink. “Now, why is it a red flag on him if you’re the one who walked over and said something?” I genuinely wanted to know, so the question was only a half-joke.

Aniyah rolled her eyes like I was the slowest person alive.

“Because, Nova, if they’re not willing to get their asses up and chase me, they’re not gonna be willing to do all the things I want in bed.

It’s about reading the situation, and if you can’t do what I want, then you’re just wasting my time. ”

She tilted to peek around me, then straightened. “And by the look of it, that vampire’s not the one. He’s yours.”

I choked on my drink, sputtering. “W-what?”

She casually set her glass down, fluffing her hair and smoothing a hand down the few inches of fabric pretending to be a skirt.

“I can just tell,” she said with a shrug. “He looks like the type who wants to hear you moan for him. I’m looking for someone who’ll moan for me tonight.”

What the fuck did that even mean? In my experience, moaning was usually a good sign—regardless of who was doing it.

Before I could respond, the wolf leaned in, bracing both hands on the bar to box Aniyah in, his voice eager. “Now, I know me and my buddy are out of our league here,” he said, practically inhaling her scent, “and you can shoot me down if you want, but even your rejection would make my night.”

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I took another sip. Aniyah, of course, giggled at the line and fired back without missing a beat.

“You’re right. We are far above the likes of you, but it’s my birthday. I’m feeling generous, so I’ll give you a once-in-a-lifetime shot… if you’re a good boy.”

I turned away, took another drink, and found myself locking eyes with a pair of deep orange ones.

The vampire.

He was watching me now, but he threw his chin toward his friend and my sister. “Looks like those two hit it off. Guess our job’s done.”

Job? I blinked. Wasn’t he eyeing Aniyah, too?

Keeping it light, I gave a small, amused smile and shrugged. “Right? Who would’ve guessed.” The sarcasm came out a little strong as I gestured over my shoulder. The wet sounds they were making got louder. “Definitely didn’t have that on my bingo card tonight.”

He chuckled, finishing the rest of his drink.

His broad chest was on display in a tight black T-shirt that strained across thick arms, and his gray slacks hugged muscular thighs that looked strong enough to choke a fighter out all on their own.

My brain immediately went into recruitment mode, wanting to ask him where he worked out and what his profession was.

Aniyah moaned behind me, snapping me out of it, the sound a reminder that tonight was not for work. Tonight was for fun.

“There’s a bingo card?” His orange eyes lit up, lips stretching into a grin that flashed the tips of his fangs. “Knew this place had more going on than drinking and dancing. I always miss the good stuff.”

“Oh, yeah.” I nodded toward the doorman, who looked like he’d rather be strangled than listen to the music that was blaring. “Just ask Mr. Sunshine over there. He’ll hand you a little sheet.”

I chuckled, finishing off my drink before lifting the empty glass in a salute. “I’ve already got ‘drink two drinks’ and ‘shake your ass on the dance floor’ marked off.”

A loud thud hit behind me. No need to look. I already knew those two had moved from making out to mounting each other on the bar.

I smirked, tipping my head toward the chaos. “Looks like Aniyah just scored ‘make out with a stranger’ and ‘make the bartender nervous’ in one go.”

He laughed, full and genuine. My stomach fluttered. I leaned on the bar and waved at the bartender. “Another,” I said, pointing to my empty glass. “Actually, make it two!”

“Is there a square for ‘get a drink from a beautiful woman’? Because I think I just scored it.”

I laughed for real that time and rolled my eyes. “Oooh, smooth.”

The drinks landed between us, perfectly timed. We lifted our glasses to each other, eyes meeting over the rims as we drank.